


Metanoia

by TeamBroodyElf



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Custom Hawke, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Constipation, Epic Bromance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Hawke Has Issues, Hawke is So Done, I, I'm Bad At Summaries, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Health Issues, Modern Thedas, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamBroodyElf/pseuds/TeamBroodyElf
Summary: Metanoia (n.)- a transformative change of heart.Constance Hawke is tired. The past five years haven't been kind to her. Her days consist of work as a private investigator and her days involve a recurring nightmare that she'd rather forget.  She's merely existing, not really living life. But then one day, she gets not only one job but two that will end up changing her life. What starts out as a giant annoyance, kickstarts the long road to self-discovery, healing, growth, and even romance. This is the story of a broken woman and how she pulls herself back together again, one day at a time.





	1. Hello  Darkness, My Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is my first fanfic on A03! This story will focus on my custom snarky Hawke, Constance. It'll revolve around her and her journey to becoming less ruled by the demons in her life. Things will get pretty heavy and it will get worse before it gets better. But it does get better! This is technically an AU, as the story takes place in modern Thedas but there is no magic. I wasn't sure how to tag it but in addition to fenhawke, this story will feature Fili/original female character. Any comments, thoughts, or constructive criticism are always welcome so feel free to do so, if you're so inclined. Enjoy!

3:47. That's what the offensive, obnoxiously bright alarm clock said. Constance sighed and looked again; as if glaring at the ruddy thing would give her a satisfactory answer. Constance let out a heavily put upon sigh and rolled out of bed. There was no use in pretending that she was going to get any more sleep. 

“Maker, what I wouldn’t give for some freaking sleep.” The drink, that had quickly turned to two, that she had before bed had been enough to lull her into sleep. But at 3:34, she had woken up in a sweat, heart racing as she recalled the nightmare she had been subject to for the past five torturous years. 

Despite having to endure it every single night, the image of their mangled bodies and lifeless, unseeing eyes was enough to keep sleep from coming easily. It didn't help that she had always been a bit of a night owl regardless. If she let her mind wander, she saw them as clear as day. The hatred in their eyes damning her with the reminder that she couldn't save them, that was was never good enough. Would never be good enough. 

Constance flinched; hard. She shook her head as if that was enough to clear her mind of the burden she was forced to carry. Constance pushed her wavy bangs off her sweaty face. 

“Well, might as well exercise since I’m up. Then breakfast and a shower before work.” Constance ignored the fact that she already felt as if she had run a marathon. 

Padding to the living room, she inserted the disc into her Xbox and waited for the instructor to begin. Today, she had chosen a high interval intensity workout which she rotated with martial art style workouts. For her cardio, she was very partial to kickboxing. There was something satisfying about getting fit while punching things. So very, very satisfying. Constance worked her muscles until her muscles felt like jelly; the burn taking her mind off things she’d rather not focus on. 

Wiping the sweat from her face, she quickly disrobed and headed into the shower. She turned the water up too hot but made no move to adjust the temperature. 

Face red from the heat, Constance wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and went to her closet to pick out some clothes for the day. She pulled out out her black watch flannel button down and black relaxed fit tee that said *disgusted noise*, sports bra and boxer briefs. She also pulled out a pair of men’s baggy black cargo pants and black socks to go with her favorite black Converse. 

She quickly dressed and gave her hair a good wringing. She then took her wide tooth comb to it and moved her sideswept bangs to their normal place upon her face. 

Now dressed for the day, she meandered into the kitchen intent on making breakfast. There wasn’t many things that Constance found relaxing but cooking was definitely on said list. There was something to be said about taking raw ingredients and being able to produce something delicious and nutritious. For that reason, cooking would always be one of the few things she loved. 

Spying eggs and bacon in the fridge, deciding what to eat was a no brainer. Constance smiled to herself as the delicious aroma of bacon and the crackling of eggs filled her senses. As she was waiting for the eggs and bacon to finish, she put the kettle on. Nothing beat a cuppa with breakfast, well, maybe a toddy. Constance thought of the whiskey in her room and wondered if she could get away with a drink before work. But ultimately, she knew she couldn't. Varric would no doubt smell the liquor on her breath and even if he didn’t, her improved disposition would give her away. Constance knew one could say a lot of things about her, most of them unpleasant, but nobody could say she was a morning person with a straight face or clear conscience. 

Deciding that a toddy would most definitely be a bad idea, Constance poured the hot water for her cuppa. She added her Earl Grey tea bag and let it steep. She didn't get why people added milk or sugar to their tea. Tea was perfect black and anyone who said otherwise was a pompous twit. 

Seeing that her eggs and bacon were done, Constance plated them and went into the living room to eat. She turned on the TV to some documentary about castles and enjoyed the noise. 

As per her usual morning routine, Constance strode to the bathroom to brush her teeth upon the completion of breakfast. She took a moment to study her reflection as she had nothing better to do while she stood there. Her waist length hair looked its usual level of mousy brown unkempt waviness; her sideswept bangs obscuring most of her forehead. Her eyes the same mousy brown as her hair. The bags underneath her eyes were dark and prominent as usual. In other words, she looked like rubbish. Taking a hair tie from the container on the sink, she put her hair up in its usual messy bun. It didn’t aid her appearance any but she preferred her hair up whilst out and about. Not liking what she saw, she turned away from the mirror and walked back into the living room to drown her thoughts out with some mindless TV that she had left on. 

After she was done brushing her teeth, she checked her phone and saw that it was only 7AM. Only one hour and fifty minutes until she had to be at work. Having drank her first cuppa, she brought her cup out to the kitchen and made herself another. 

Setting herself onto the sofa, Constance had a feeling she was going to need the caffeine later.


	2. You've Never seen A Finer Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here the most awesome of all bros, Varric Tethras, makes his debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! I have up to chapter 14, I believe, all typed up so I'm going to be adding those :). I try to have a chapter written every week or two; three at the most. As always, feel free to leave me any input, I plan on reading as many comments as humanly possible!

There were lots of people who loved living in cities, could do nothing but dream of the conveniences country life didn’t afford. There were those who were fond of the industrial architecture that was inescapable. Constance was not amongst those fools and she never would be. She hated the noise, the smell, the smog, how bloody cramped it was and consequently how long it took to get anywhere because of said congestion. Having to endure public transport was physiological torture designed to drive people mad: she was sure of it. At least, she felt like it was driving her mad. The only good thing about her flat was that allowed her a fairly short commute to work. But Kirkwall was no Ferelden. She would be lying if she said she didn't miss home but work was here, in Kirkwall.

But the Free Marches would never be her home. She had been born and raised all over Ferelden; frequently moving due to her papa’s work and desire to travel. The only place that would ever be home was Ferelden but she had Varric relying on her and for some reason, he loved Kirkwall. Constance assumed it was because he was a Kirkwaller. So, as much as a part of her longed to return to her homeland, she knew she was needed. So she stayed. 

It wasn’t until her papa’s murder that she had even traveled outside of Ferelden. It had been a pretty big shock going from country life to a bustling city. Constance never felt like she could ever truly adjust to city life, mostly because she refused to. She missed the mud of Ferelden, the rain. Maker, the rain. The cooler days and colder winters. She missed running out into fields as a carefree small child before life made her its personal punching bag. She missed the abundance of dogs, the lack of snobbery. She knew her accent branded her as a Ferelden: a ‘dog lord’ as the idiotic and patriotic Free Marchers called her. It was an old insult that had stuck over hundreds of years like ferelden mud stuck to the hem of clothes. That was why it was with great pleasure that sometimes Constance would exaggerate her accent to sound like what they thought a stereotypical Ferelden farm girl sounded like. That always brightened her day a little. 

The metro came to a stop and Constance noticed that it was her stop. She hadn’t realized she had spent that long in thought but ultimately it did not matter. It was an acceptable way to kill the minutes. 

Constance stepped off the metro and walked the block or so to her place of employ. It was a typical historical Marcher building comprised of white ostentatious stone; left over from the height of the equally ostentatious and horrendous Tevinter Imperium. A time when sadly, much of Thedas was under its heel. The Imperium had many reasons to be held in poor regard; namely for their ambitious, conquering nature and founding the slave trade. Of course, once the majority of the Imperium was overthrown, they knew that any overt attempt at expansion would be seen as a direct act of war. 

Nowadays, slavery was illegal, as it should be. But Constance had heard rumors of illegal slave markets still existing in Tevinter. Quite frankly, she wouldn’t be surprised. After all, this was a country that once upon a time had wanted to rule the world. And while it was quite difficult to prove, it was the general consensus amongst the people of Thedas outside the Imperium, that Tevinter was no good. Constance couldn’t agree more. 

Constance entered the building and boarded the elevator: pressing three to bring her to the level of that building that Varric undoubtedly paid an exorbitant amount of rent on. 

The elevator ding alerted Constance that she was at her destination. Catching sight of the cheeky sign that greeted her every morning, Constance smirked. 

Tethras & Hawke  
You’ve never seen a finer pair, of that we guarantee; or your money back.

The dwarf had a good sense of humor, she’d give him that. They both shared an incredibly snarky sense of humor that centered around outrageous jokes. Like Varric’s perpetual faux flirting. Though she gave as good as she got, or at least she tried to. It wouldn’t do for Varric to get in the last word. In fact, they had bonded fairly quickly over their mutual sense of humor. She had met Varric after Papa died and was in a tough spot. She remembered as if it was yesterday. 

‘Maker, what am I going to do?’ That was the frantic question that kept repeating itself in Constance’s over-exhausted mind. How could she sleep when just last week her papa had been murdered?

“Like there was any way in the void it was suicide,” Constance muttered bitterly to herself.

Her papa was a brilliant man who adored his family; not a man that longed for the sweet embrace of death. No, she didn’t know why but someone was trying to cover something up, she was sure of it. But she didn’t know who and she didn’t know how to find out. Besides that, she knew she needed another job. Her part-time job that was helping pay for school would not be enough. Not when she had to take care of her mother, Carver, and Bethany. Not currently having a degree didn’t help her chances and she knew it. There weren’t many things she loved in life but painting was one of them and one of the things her papa was always adamant about was chasing your dreams. And he was determined that Constance chase hers, so he had helped her with college. Now though, she didn’t have the time or funds, never mind the willpower, to even think about school. 

She looked forlornly at the sidewalk in front of her. ‘Papa, I don’t think I can handle school right now, not...not with everything. Mother and the twins need me. But I promise, I’ll go back to school. I just want to make you proud, Papa. Maker, I miss you. I promise, somehow I will find the scumbag who did this to you and avenge you.’ Constance wiped a hand down her face and cursed her allergies. 

Someone bumped into her harshly but kept walking. Constance was all too ready to rip into the poor fool who had the misfortune of crossing her. As she determinedly strode after the man, she saw him pocket something and realize that it was her wallet.

Enraged, Constance sped up all the while yelling, “Bloody thief, stop!” The man realizing that he had been caught desperately ran away from the irate woman whose glower caused fellow pedestrians to give her a wide berth. 

Constance quickly caught up to the man but before she could strike, the thief fell due to an expensive booted foot. Constance just barely managed to keep from falling over the downed man. She saw that the foot was attached to a dwarf with shimmery dark blond hair who was wearing a black suit that would have been the height of fashion and respectability were it not for the fact that his red button down shirt was unbuttoned and showing more of his chest than most lecherous women. 

The dwarf grabbed the man by the shirt. Constance saw his bicep muscle flex and was sure he could pack a punch if he wanted to. 

“I’ve seen a lot of cutpurses but you, you don’t have the style to work Hightown, let alone Kirkwall.” The dwarf grabbed her wallet. “Might want to find yourself a new line of work,” he said as he released the punk. “Off you go.” 

The man, thoroughly intimidated, nodded and ran off. The dwarf turned and gave her a winning smirk. She raised an eyebrow. 

“And here you are, my lovely lady,” he said as he handed her back her wallet. 

Constance nodded and pocketed the wallet after checking that all her money was there. “Thanks but I could have taken him.” 

The dwarf’s smirk widened at that. “But where are my manners? I’m Varric, Varric Tethras. Private investigator by day, award-winning author by night.” Varric explained as he handed her his business card. 

“Private investigator, eh? Interesting profession, Mr. Tethras.” 

“Varric please, Miss…”

“Hawke. Constance Hawke.” 

“Hawke, have you ever considered being a PI?”

“You can’t be serious?”

“On the contrary. My brother has been tearing his beard out trying to find another partner.”

“And what makes you so sure about me? You don’t even know me.”

Varric grinned at that. “I have a good feeling about you, Hawke. So what do you say?”

Constance looked at the pro-offered hand and decided what did she have to lose? Besides, Varric looked like he’d pay well. Constance shook her hand in a firm grip, “Alright Varric, you have yourself a deal. When do I start?”

Shaking herself out of her memories, Constance sniggered at herself and thought, ‘And that was the beginning of our famous partnership or infamous as some would say.’ Thanks to Varric, she was able to keep her promise to her papa. It wasn’t when she had planned on graduating but she did; top of her class even. She was now the exceptionally proud owner of an entirely worthless art degree.

Constance strode past their secretary Merrill at the front desk with her customary good morning nod and headed to Varric’s office, currently located right next to hers. 

“There’s my favorite human! And here I thought you were going to play hookey. Or did you stay up too late last night binging Pride and Prejudice? I know you have a thing for Danby.”

“First of all, it’s Darcy, Mr. Darcy and I do not have a ruddy thing for him. Second of all, I am here one minute later I usually am. Third of all, I need better friends.” Constance explained while rolling her eyes, the last part said in a deadpan manner. Varric laughed at Constance’s tone. 

“My lady, you wound me!” Varric raised his hand dramatically over his chest as if his heart was in trouble. 

Constance smirked, “I will if you don’t shut it, Tethras. So, what have you got for me?”

Varric straightened and put on what she called his professional face. “Actually, I received an interesting case just a few minutes ago…”


	3. No Rest For The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constance goes looking for Marta and Bela is all too happy to play dress up.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. I don’t think my heart can take it.” 

“What heart?” Varric grinned as she smacked his arm lightly. “I do believe that proves my point, madam.”

“It’s true, I’m a heartless monster. Guess I’m going to have to kill you to keep my secret safe.” Varric chuckled before looking vaguely concerned. 

Constance sat forward in her seat. “Varric, you’re starting to worry me.”

“I got a call from a man who wants us to track down a young woman.”

“That sounds like a Tuesday.”

“I dunno, Hawke. I have a bad feeling about this. He was even more secretive than some of our clients can be. All he told me was that he wanted me to find a young woman by the name of Marta Engrin because she ran away from home and he was worried about her. Look wise, shouldn’t be too hard to find. Dwarven woman with a baby face, doe like green eyes and chocolate brown hair that is usually styled in a braid or updo. ”

“So you think this mysterious client is pretending to be a friend or something? Did he mention why she ran away?”

“Something about a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding or a misunderstanding?” Varric sighed and his visage clearly portrayed that he thought it may be the latter.

Now Constance was starting to have a bad feeling about all of this. “Right, I’ll look into it.” 

“Thanks, Hawke. I’ll drum up my contacts and see what I can stir up.” Constance waved and headed towards the elevator. 

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that they had been called to settle a domestic dispute but Constance would damn herself to the void first if fulfilling a case meant putting an innocent in harm’s way. No, in those cases she had helped out the poor women and occasionally men. She gave them safe passage and some cash as well as talked to her contacts and set up employment for them. Constance knew how hard it was to find a job when your life felt like it was unraveling by the seam. That was honestly one of the only few downsides to her job. Mostly, it was a lot of tracking down people who didn't want to be found for various but ultimatley mundane, reasons. Like one boy who had been gonne for a week who conveniently forgot to tell his parents he had left on vacation...as well as with several of their credit cards. Constance liked to think that if she was born hundreds of years ago, she would have been a fearsome warrior.   
‘Maybe if I was a warrior, nobody would have died. Maybe….they’d all be alive. Maybe….I’d still be happy.’ Constance snorted at herself. ‘Maker’s breath Constance, got a hold of yourself.You’re twenty-three, not a pathetic whelp so stop acting like it. What use has crying or what ifs ever done? None whatsoever. Someone wanted Papa dead and one day that wretch will wish he had never been born. That is what you’re living for.’ And truly, that is what had kept her going for the past five years; the inhuman excitement she’d revel in when she destroyed the life life of the person who took out one of the pillars of her life. It was the only thing that gave her tiniest bit of solace when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. That and the thought that one day, she would be reuinted with her family at the maker's side. But maker, she was tired. A small, selfish part of her couldn’t wait until her papa was avenged. Maybe then she could finally get some rest. Much desired, needed rest. But for now, there was no rest for the wicked. 

Constance had a fairly good routine, she believed when it came to tracking down missing persons of interest. Hitting up the local pubs both during the day and night was an excellent way to gather information. But just as helpful as the pubs were, so was Isabela and her ragingly successful nightclub Siren’s Call. Siren’s Call was the perfect level of seedy and respectable. The building itself looked respectable, well, as respectable as a nightclub could be. It was fashioned and decorated after Bela’s fascination with pirates and the ocean. 

‘What makes the place as seedy as it is is her clientele.’ Constance grimaced as she thought of all the poor and posh lecherous idiots alike who frequented the place. Bela may have been one of her best friends but that didn’t mean she approved of her friend’s moral compass or lack thereof. So, as much as Constance hated it, she was going clubbing tonight. Right after she stopped into The Hanged Man for a drink and maybe while she was at it, she’d hear more about this Marta chick. 

The Hanged Man was one of the oldest and well known pubs in Kirkwall. Back in the early medieval age, it was the only one; which probably explained why it was still in business. Corff wasn’t a very talkative publican but he had decent ale. 

Constance sat down at her usual spot in one of the corner tables and had one of the servers, Nora, hand her her usual. ‘And Corff always has an ale ready for me.’ While it was true that Constance was undoubtedly a liquor person, she had learned to tolerate some ales due to work. Constance tipped Nora and nodded in thanks to Corff. As much as she hated being in such close proximity to so many people, it was sadly necessary. Even if this Marta didn’t wander in, there was a chance one of the patrons had seen her or knew someone that had. 

Constance had spent the next four hours sitting there nursing her ale and eventually ordering lunch to go with it. She didn’t hear much except sports talk from the patrons but such was life sometimes. Constance left the money under her glass and went out on the prowl again. There were still some places she wanted to check before she went to Bela’s tonight. 

Constance opened the door to her flat with a sigh. Her usual places also hadn’t turned up anything, so she was hopeful tonight would be better. She really didn’t want to have to leave Kirkwall to find this girl but if she was really in trouble....it’s not like the first time Constance would have had to go on an extended trip. 

"Better not get ahead of myself. Although, it’s a nice break from the monotony." There was a pause before Constance added, "And I really need to stop thinking out loud. It’s weird."

Constance dug her phone of her her pant’s pocket and selected Bela’s number; pressed call and put it on speaker phone as she went upstairs to her closet. She dropped her phone on her bed when she entered the loft. 

“Afternoon, Sweet Thing. Oh, I do hope you’re indecent right now.” Isabela said in way of greeting. 

“Pfft, you wish. Even if I was, which I’m not, I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of knowing.”

“Oh, you stick in the mud! You never want to do anything fun. Why are we friends again?”

“My delightful personality, of course.” Constance snarked.

“I can think of other delightful things about you. Why you insist on hiding your delicious self in those oversized, frumpy excuses of clothing is beyond me. If only you’d let me dress you…” Isabela sighed wistfully. 

“I’ll never get rid of my beloved cargos and flannels. Or rude t-shirts but you may get half your wish. I’m popping over to the club for work tonight.” Isabela squeed and Constance chuckled. “I thought you’d like that.” 

“Of course I do! It’s been too long since you’ve visited. Wait, have you picked out your clothes yet?”

“No, that's what I’m in the process of doing right now.”

“Don’t pick anything. I’ll grab my make-up bag and be right over!”

“See you soon.” Constance chuckled and ended the call. 

Bela arrived in record time and with Tevenese take away too. “I can’t wait to get rid of those clothes, they’re a fashion travesty. Something sexy suits you much better.” Bela said with a devious twinkle in her eye. Despite all of Isabela’s teasing, Constance knew she would never dress her in something that she hated or that was better suited to a tart. Though, she knew she would end up showing more of her legs than she liked but considering what she could be dressed like, she’d consider herself fortunate. 

“And you brought food? I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” Constance snarked.

“You mean besides the fantastic view?” Bela winked saucily. “I figured you’d be too lazy to cook when you got home.”

“You’re lucky I’m hungry. Let’s eat and then you can play dress up.”


	4. Don't Dress Me Like One Of Your Orlesian Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bela does Constance's make-up while Constance lowkey hates life.

After dinner, the two went up to the loft and Bela selected some clothes from her duffle bag.

“Maker’s breath Bela, no!” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“You mean, besides the fact that the neckline is so low I might as well be topless?”

Isabela gave a faux resigned sigh. “You’re no fun you know that?”

“Just because I have boobs, does not mean that the whole world is entitled to see them.”

“You’re almost as bad as Aveline; two Ferelden, prudish peas in a pod.”

“Please, you couldn’t handle it if I dressed devastatingly sexy.”

Isabela gave her a lingering once over, “I’d certainly love to try.”

Constance laughed. As weird as it sounded, that was one of the things she liked about Bela; her inability to not take anything seriously. It was a good distraction from the noise in her mind, if only for a little while. 

“Nice try but I’m not wearing that and you know it. It’s bad enough I’ll be forced to wear a strapless bra as it is.”

“Because sports bras are any better?” Bela countered, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, actually they are. They’re comfy and not awkward.”

“And so unflattering. Well, since you haven’t appreciated any of my other helpful suggestions, what about this bore of a piece?” Bela inquired while holding out a sequined, iridescent navy scoop neck dress. Constance judged it would hit about three inches above her knee. It wasn’t her taste, it wasn’t a flannel button down and cargos after all, but for slutty clubwear, it was rather conservative. At least all of her chest would be covered and that was no small miracle. 

“This is the least offensive one yet. You know dresses aren’t really my thing but the color is nice and at least I won’t look like I belong on the corner of screw and you.”

Isabela snickered. “Who’s the poor sod you’re after anyway?”

“Woman, actually. Some dwarf by the name of Marta Engrin. Some guy called asking us to find her; to sort out a misunderstanding as she ran away.”

“And you think she’s in trouble?”

“Varric had a bad feeling about the whole thing. And I agree, something isn’t right. I’m not sure what it is but I intend to find out.”

“You’ll find her, I haven’t seen a target slip through your hands yet.”

Constance smiled tiredly. ‘Except Papa’s murderer. Although, you can’t lose something you’ve never found…’

If Bela noticed her train of thought, she said nothing about it but the gentle hand on her shoulder spoke volumes. “Just be careful alright? If I ever have to visit you in the hospital, I’ll kill you myself.”

Constance smirked. “Me, reckless? Never.” ‘Don’t worry Bela, I’m staying...for a little while longer at least.’

“Go put on the dress and then I’ll do your makeup, you can pick out shoes after. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have men and women alike eating out of your hands.”

Shortly later an appreciative whistle was heard. “And...finished. I outdid myself. Now let’s talk about repayment…” Bela joked with a leer. 

Constance rolled her eyes and walked to the bathroom to see which look Bela had chosen this time. She had chosen a very classic smokey eye look. The black, grey, and silver eyeshadow made her eyes look introspective and cutting. The eyeliner and mascara helping to emphasize them even more as well as giving her lashes some additional but in her opinion, unneeded length. Her lips were painted in a classic deep red. Her dark circles and fatigue, hidden by a layer of foundation and some concealer. 

“Who knew I could look so sexy?”

“I did, you’re the epitome of broody.”

“I don’t brood.”

Bela snorted. “And I’m the queen of Antiva.”

“You’re as scandalous as Antivan royalty, so you already have half the role down. Now, you just need to marry some wealthy prat and have him assassinated.” 

“I’ll remember that next time I get bored.”

Constance chuckled, “You’re terrible.”

Isabela winked. “That’s what makes it fun, Sweet Thing.”

Constance rolled her eyes, “You’re seriously lucky you fed me first.”

“Have you seen you when you’re hungry? I bet you could kill a grown man and he’d thank you for it. By the way, what heels are you wearing?”

“The black wedges. If I’m going to deal with lecherous idiots for hours then I’m at least not putting my feet through the torture of stilettos.”


End file.
